The fire simmered down to a low snuffed out by the heavy night breeze, smoke twirling in soft tendrils in the night sky. He watched as the smoke drifted up and danced in the sky, following it with his eyes until it disappeared. Sometimes he wished he could be smoke, one moment he’d be there, and the next... gone. Forgotten. Gone with the breeze. To be picked up by the wind and follow the smoke to wherever it would lead him, live there and be happy with his life. But he can’t do that... He let his eyes fall to the dying embers of the fire, the orange and yellow orbs glinting with the last signs of life, flickering and blinking. He sat up and ran his fingers through the wiry grass, tugging as it knotted around his fingers. Dragging his knees up close to his chin he picked at the flaking paint of his beaten shoes. He stood up, stomping on what was left of the fire, leaving him in total darkness and no longer able to watch the smoke. Maybe it’s better that way.